


To All the Wizards I've Loved Before

by mothermalfoy (slytherinxravenclaw)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Healer Draco, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, meddling Pansy/Hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinxravenclaw/pseuds/mothermalfoy
Summary: Draco's known he was gay for as long as he can remember, if only he didn't write his stupid crushes to tell them how he felt.





	To All the Wizards I've Loved Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [treacletvrts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treacletvrts/gifts).



> Just a little one-shot inspired from a Tumblr prompt that I decided I wanted to write for a Tumblr friend of mine.

Draco had known he was gay for as long as he could remember, his first inkling had been in his first year at Hogwarts at seeing Oliver Wood flying during Quidditch one day. Draco had always wanted to be a seeker, and the brilliant way in which Oliver flew, made Draco feel as though his heart was somehow flying beside him. The crush had died almost instantly the moment he’d learned that Oliver and Marcus Flint (his own house’s Quidditch captain) were an item.

Draco quietly discarded the love letter he’d written to Oliver, in the deepest recesses of his trunk, where no one could find them. He’d considered throwing it in the fire, to be safe, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The second letter came during third year. Draco had started to realize his latest crush, on a Hufflepuff no less, that he’d just as soon no one know about. This particular letter, Draco did toss into the fire the second he’d written it. It was foolish, he thought. Not to mention nauseating. Besides, he was just four years away from graduating Hogwarts, where inevitably he was to marry Pansy. They had known each other since birth, and Draco decided he might as well get used to the idea. Even if seeing stupid Diggory every day made his stomach leap into his throat.

The following year found Draco absolutely enamored with one Viktor Krum, something about his accent, and his dreamy eyes made Draco swoon. He found himself hexing anyone who dared come near the Bulgarian, save Granger who, try though he might, Draco didn’t really have it in him to hate proper. Perhaps it was her right hook that had knocked some sense into Draco after all (not that he would ever admit as much), or perhaps it was simply that Draco had realized he didn’t quite believe in everything his father taught him as much as he thought he should, but as it stood, Draco let it go.

By the time his father went to Azkaban, Draco found himself too tired to care about boyhood crushes. Sure there was Blaise, and Theo, attractive enough, but they were hardly anything romantic. By sixth year, Draco was convinced he wouldn’t live through it long enough to see himself become an adult, and had all but thrown himself at Blaise in an effort to keep some semblance of control over his quickly crumbling world.

When the dust had settled, and Voldemort had fallen, Draco had all but forgotten about his letters, and the wizards he’d loved before.

He hadn’t  _intended_ to write a love letter to Potter, in fairness, it had started as an apology/thank you letter to the boy-who-lived. Potter had kept him and his mother out of Azkaban, he was the reason Draco was able to come back to Hogwarts and have some semblance of normalcy after the rather tragic last few years he’d endured. He owed him  _at least,_ a letter. Though he knew he owed him so much more. More than he could ever hope to give. 

_Dear ~~Potter~~ ,_

Draco crossed out the last name and instead wrote,  _Harry._ It was odd seeing Harry’s name written in his own scrawl like that, ignoring the butterflies in his chest at the sight. 

_I first wanted to say, thank you. For everything. Thank you for saving my arse, repeatedly. Both from the feindfyre and later prison. I’m not sure where I would be right now without you. Moreover, I’d like to apologize for my part in the war. I wish I’d been as brave as you. I wish I had taken Dumbledore’s offer. But most of all, I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time pretending as though I hated you. Don’t misunderstand, I did rather dislike you a lot for snubbing me in our first year, but in truth, I understand why you did it, and my dislike of you for that ebbed fairly quickly. Eventually, I kept up the ruse in what I thought was an effort to protect us both. Silly I know. I confess, at times I took it a bit too far. I may not have really hated you, but no one could rile me up quite like you._

Draco almost blushed at the comment, Salazar that sounds dirty, he thought shaking his head as he continued on.

_The truth is, I’ve rather come to admire you over the years, even be jealous of you. You possessed all the things I wished to have without even trying, and worse you didn’t even_ want  _any of it. I can’t tell you how much that drove me spare. I’d like to think I’m more mature than I was then. But seeing you now, looking both miserable and so grateful to be alive, I can’t help but want to hug you, to hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright._

Draco paused, where had  _that_ come from? He thought reading over the last line. It felt as though it had been written by someone else, very much not himself, and yet… the truth of it struck him so acutely. He  _did_ want that. He wanted more than  _anything_ to be able to hold Harry and piece him back together.  _Oh, Merlin!_ He groaned.

As time went on, Draco’s crush only accelerated. He had hoped,  _Salazar how he’d hoped_ , that eventually, he would get over this schoolboy crush of his once rival. To Draco’s dismay, however, as the months of his 8th year drew on, Draco’s crush bloomed and blossomed, and every day, watching Harry he began to feel more and more as though he were drowning on dry land. Harry had begun to smile again, laughing with his friends in a melodic sort of way that made Draco want to swoon and sob. Occasionally, ever so occasionally, Harry would send a smile his way, and Draco would run to his dorm in the dungeon and furiously write out another letter.

Never to be seen by another soul.

It was all too much, Draco had thought, as he penned the last letter before graduation. The thought of never again getting to see Harry Potter, both terrified him and somehow calmed him, if only slightly. The feelings would subside he told himself, as soon as they were no longer in each other’s proximity. Draco didn’t  _actually_ believe this, however, but he tried to convince himself all the same:

_Harry,_

_I hate that you’ve made me love you._

_I hate that sometimes I see your smiling face and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. As if I’m standing in the middle of the sun, and I want nothing more than to be devoured by your powerful rays. I love you so much I can barely stand it, and more than hating you for it. I hate myself. For ruining any chance between us before it could have ever been. Loathe though I am to admit this, I do not deserve you, Harry. Not the way Ginevra would._

For a brief moment, he had almost thought it had worked. Healer training had been ghastly, and Draco had spent many a night lying awake, burning the candle at both ends in an effort to get through it all. He had been determined to get top marks in his class, to  _prove_ himself as the best damn Healer St. Mungo’s had ever seen. Worthy somehow of forgiveness, he wasn’t entirely certain he could give himself. 

 He’d succeeded too. In record time. In just three short years out of Hogwarts, Draco had become one of the youngest Healers in St. Mungo’s history. Not that he was trying to brag or anything. Draco had specialized in Spell Damage and had seen his fair share of Aurors during his tenure at St. Mungo’s. Fortunately for Draco, Potter had never been among them. Not that Draco still  _thought_ about him or anything, and if, late at night, when he had finally come off duty, he found himself imagining what it might be like, to come home to a certain smiling brunette face, well, nobody need know about that, he’d determined.

It was nearing September, and raining brilliantly when Draco found himself in Diagon Alley for the first time since the end of the war. He’d been far too terrified, but Pansy, the Bridezilla, had been  _insistent_ that Draco pick up a calming draught from the special apothecary in Diagon.

“You can’t do this why?” Draco had asked.

“Because I’ve got to take care of my sobbing fiancé haven’t I?” she demanded, rubbing soothing circles down Hermione’s back, as the curly-haired woman continued to sob uncontrollably. Draco sighed, turned on his heel and disapparated with a loud crack.

He’d just exited the apothecary, his purchase in tow when he heard a familiar voice yelling for him. Draco turned, his heart racing as he saw Harry Potter pushing his way past the crowds of Hogwart’s students gathering their supplies for the year. Draco wanted to run. His heart was racing and he had half a mind to down the calming draught himself.

“Malfoy!” Potter yelled. He was getting closer. Without thinking, Draco ran down the street, in an effort to disappear into the crowd to no avail. “Stop! Wait, why are you running?” he demanded. Draco snorted.

“Why are you following me, Potter?” Draco spat. He resisted adding,  _again,_ to his statement. It had begun to feel like sixth year all over again.

“I just… wanted to talk,” Harry said as he caught up to him. Harry was soaking wet he realized, giving him the look of a drowned, sad rat. Draco didn’t know when he’d stopped running, or why. Only that they were surrounded by people now.

“Er, can we move this someplace more private?” Harry asked, looking suddenly nervous.

“Why? Come to interrogate me?” Draco ground out, he hated himself for being so snippy, but something about it felt familiar to him.  _This_ he knew,  _this_ he understood.  “Let me spare you the trouble  _Auror_ Potter or is it head Auror now? I’ve been meeting with my parole officer twice a month, and I’ve been nothing but an upstanding citizen. Alright? Or are you wanting to haul me in?”

“I’m not hauling you in,” Harry said.

“Then what? Why have you chased me across Diagon Alley?”

“I was just wondering h-how you were?” he asked, sheepishly. Draco stared at him, completely aghast.

“How am… I’m a former Death Eater is how I bloody am Potter. I apparently can’t even go to Diagon for the first time in three years, to pick up a bloody calming potion without being accosted by an Auror!”

“Calming potion?” Draco growled.

“Last I checked I was allowed!” he said, resisting the urge to stomp his foot. He was a well-respected healer for Merlin’s sake. Why did Potter unnerve him so? “Look Potter as much as I’d love to play good cop, bad boy with you, but I have places where I need to be.”

“Did you mean it?” Harry asked, suddenly. Draco stared at the Auror.

“Potter, have you completely lost the plot? What are you on about?”  Harry pulled a letter from his robe, and Draco froze, his heart racing as he stared at the parchment in Harry’s fingers.  _Bloody hell._

“I got it this morning, it’s from you isn’t it?”

Draco snorted, “I have no idea what you’re on about Potter,” he was going to give his bloody house elf clothes for this. Thank god he hadn’t signed it.

“Draco, I would know your handwriting anywhere. And it’s on bloody Malfoy stationary!” Draco swore under his breath. “Why did you leave without saying anything,” they were drawing a crowd, Draco realized. Swallowing, he dragged Harry into an alley between two shops, through a particularly deep puddle that made water rip through his Prada oxfords. He growled, throwing up a quick  _muffliato,_ around them. 

Draco glared. “This has obviously been a misunderstanding. I don’t know where you got that letter, but I never intended you to see it. Now kindly return it to me and we’ll forget this ever happened Potter.”

Harry glared, “No! No I won’t give it back, and I won’t bloody forget this happened. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco snorted.  _Bloody Gryffindors,_ “What would you have me do?” Draco demanded. “Run up to you like some bloody Hufflepuff and confess my undying love to you?”

“So what? You’d rather just slither away, never even bothering to say goodbye? Never giving me the chance to tell you I loved you back? Just  _assuming_ that you knew everything as usual.”

“I beg your pardon.” Draco was certain he hadn’t heard him properly.

“I said, I love you, you great prat! I have been, at least since the middle of our eighth year.”

“Oh,” was all Draco could say.

Harry snorted, shaking his head. “God I hated you for just vanishing. I should have bloody known Slytherin’s don’t know how to show human emotion properly.” Draco laughed a little despite himself.  _Harry loved him. Harry, loves him,_ it was almost too good to be true.

“Can I… kiss you?” Harry asked. Draco blushed furiously, nodding breathlessly as Harry’s lips pressed against his own, shoving him up against the dingy alley wall, edging his knee between Draco’s legs. Harry was soaking wet, and Draco’s spell keeping him dry had fallen, but couldn’t care, because they were kissing in the rain. Harry bloody Potter was kissing him in the rain, and he loved him. It was a miracle. “Gods I love you, you great bloody prat!” he hissed, kissing down Draco’s throat. Draco could do nothing but groan in response. 

* * *

Hermione smirked as Draco vanished. “You know Slytherin’s are surprisingly easy to manipulate,” she said as she wiped the fake tears from her eyes.

“Salazar, why do I find your manipulations such a turn on?” Pansy purred as she wrapped her arms around her fiancé’s waist.

“Because I’m  _really_ good at it,” Hermione said. Pansy chuckled.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” she said.

“With any luck, we’ll be attending Harry and Draco’s wedding next,” Hermione said. Pansy sighed.

“Thank bloody god. If I had to listen to one more conversation about bloody Potter this, and bloody Potter that… I might have strangled Draco.”

“Harry is I’m sure eternally grateful you didn’t.”

Pansy smiled, “Oh he’s going to make it up to me with a huge wedding present.” Hermione grinned.

“I like the sound of that. Say how did you know about the letters anyway?”

Pansy gave her fiancé a look. “Darling, what kind of Slytherin would I be if I didn’t know everything?” Hermione crawled into her fiancé’s lap.

“And they say,  _I’m_ an insufferable know-it-all.”

Pansy purred, “Oh, you are my dear. Luckily I have a weakness for insufferable know-it-alls.”


End file.
